


Claiming Territory

by Bad Samaritan (quodpersortem)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean has a possessive streak, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, blowjob, public, toilet sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Bad%20Samaritan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whoever thought Dean Winchester was incapable of lewdness was obviously wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claiming Territory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [iamsamhearmemoose](http://iamsamim2spooky.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

“It’s called Halloween,” Dean tells Cas as he smears some more of the fake blood on his face. 

Castiel scowls and tells him, “I know what _Halloween_ is, I just think it is not okay to-“

“It’s supposed to be fun,” Sam says from his bed by means of explanation and Dean sighs, because of course Sam is siding with Cas on this one. 

“No, it _is_ fun,” Dean frowns. “You two dickheads just don’t know how to have a good time.”

“Oh, I do,” Sam mutters, “But Halloween brings back memories of you getting the most horrible costumes-“

“Now, come on,” Dean rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror, though he knows Cas can probably see too from where he’s standing, staring at Dean’s back. “You _wanted_ to be a princess that one year.”

From the muffled sound that comes from the room, he’s effectively made Sam shut up _and_ blush. Dean grins and winks at Cas, and he knows he’s looking smug but who cares.

-

In the end, he actually manages to convince Sam and Cas to join him to the only bar in the village that hosts a Halloween party. 

All three of them are wearing white facial paint (“Is this really necessary?” Cas had asked while Dean had smeared a healthy amount of the stuff on his face), with dark circles around the eyes and a healthy amount of blood just about everywhere—even down Cas’ usually crisp-white shirt. (“We’re zombies,” Dean had stated, and when both Sam and Cas had wanted to complain about how fake it looked, Dean cut them off with a stern, “Don’t want to be mistaken for the real thing” and that was that).

When they get there, Dean immediately staggers off to the bar to get drinks, beers for him and Sam and several shots of whiskey for Cas. When he gets back, Cas is talking to some chick dressed up as a mermaid. She is smiling animatedly even though Cas, for God’s sake, is telling her that “All Hallow’s Eve is actually a pagan-“ 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean rolls his eyes as he interrupts Cas, half bumping into him as he leans over to hand Sam his beer. Then he holds up the tray to Cas. “Here, your drinks. Excuse my friend,” he tells the girl, “He’s got some sort of mental deficiency that keeps him from speaking like a normal person.”

“You mean autism?” the girl asks in his ear and Dean just shrugs. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, but he’s pretty sure Cas isn’t autistic. “That’s fine. I know how to cope with that.”

Dean doesn’t like that she knows how to cope with it, or rather, that she _wants_ to. A possessive streak in him flares up, so he puts his hand on the small of Cas’ back. The girl notices right away and smiles apologetically. “I didn’t know you-“ before gesturing between Cas and Dean and turning away from them.

“What did you do?” Cas frowns at Dean and Dean grins at him. 

“She was interested in you,” he tells Cas, leaning in a little closer so his lips brush the shell of Cas’ ear. “I made sure that she knew you are… otherwise inclined.”

“I enjoyed talking to her,” Cas protests but by then Dean is already pushing himself up against Cas’ body. He can see Sam rolling his eyes at them from the booth.

“Well, I didn’t enjoy her talking to you,” Dean responds, pushing Cas back into the booth. Sam is still glaring at them and after a minute he says, “Excuse me, I need to go throw up. You two are terrible.” Dean smiles when he sees Sam head in the direction of a chick that’s been eyeing him since they got here.

Dean’s got his hand rubbing on the inside of Cas’ thigh before Sam’s even gone. He can see the girl watching them from the other side of the room and so he takes it a little further, palming Cas’ half-hard dick through his slacks, and it shoots a jolt of arousal through his own body, too.

“You wanna?” Dean leans in when he asks it, and Cas nods. Then he wraps his fingers around Cas’ wrist but instead of guiding him outside like he usually would, he takes him into the restroom. He grins smugly at the girl when she stares at him angrily—but it’s his territory and Dean is damn well going to defend it.

“Why are we going in here?” Cas asks, confusion apparent in his voice. Dean just shoves him into a cubicle and starts kissing him.

“Can’t wait,” he is telling Cas, pulling the hems of his shirts out of his slacks and thank god he’s managed to convince Cas to stop wearing that stupid coat inside public establishments two weeks ago. “You’re so hot, Cas, god, you should see the attention you get-“

“I can-“ Cas starts but Dean cuts him off with a kiss.

“No zapping, ok?” He kisses Cas again before continuing. “I like this. I like the. I just-fuck” and then he’s kneeling in front of Cas, making quick work of his slacks. 

Dean presses his face into the bulge showing in Cas’ boxer-briefs. He mouths against the dark fabric, tongue pressing against the head of Cas’ cock as he tastes the musty-salty hotness even through the clothes. The tiled floor is cold against his knees but he doesn’t give a shit. Cas is already groaning, a hand sliding into Dean’s hair to keep him close. 

Dean slides his hands up the backs of Cas’ thighs, causing them to tremble, before yanking down his underwear. Then he’s on to Cas’ dick, sucking the silky head into his mouth as he presses his tongue against the slit. Castiel is trembling as he holds on to Dean, his back and head thudding against the cubicle wall as he sags against it.

“Dean, Dean,” he’s groaning. When Dean picks up on the rhythm Cas repeats “Dean,” but an octave higher and with his fingers clenching in Dean’s hair. And when Cas starts a litany of “Yours, yours, yours,” Dean unzips his own jeans and starts to jerk himself off, quick and without a real rhythm but it’s not like he needs one when he’s got Cas right here with him.

Cas tastes heady on his tongue, and Dean keeps his free hand curled around the base of the angel’s erection. Dean groans before he starts humming, to which Cas responds with a jerk on his hair and a dribble of bitter precome on the back of Dean’s tongue.

He gives everything he’s got—he pulls every single trick he knows Castiel enjoys, loves, because he realizes damn well this is only to take the edge off and they _are_ still in (semi-)public after all; after this they’ll head back to the motel in the Impala and get on with it properly.

So he rubs the tip of his tongue against the sensitive folds of skin under the head of Cas’ dick, he breathes around the tip and hums when he’s swallowed Castiel’s cock nearly all the way to the back of his throat. He groans and moans and allows Cas to see what he’s doing to himself, something that makes Cas whimper and push his hips against Dean’s mouth with involuntary little shocks. 

Dean saves the biggest trump for last though—when he can feel Cas hardening further, his body going rigid with the premise of his orgasm, he gently scrapes his teeth along the sensitive skin. With that, Cas is groaning Dean’s name before he comes down Dean’s throat—and then across his cheek, when his dick slips from Dean’s mouth because Cas can’t keep still, keeps sliding away against the sleek wall and slippery tiles as his hips keep helplessly pushing into the air. 

Dean just looks up at Cas, looking debauched with his swollen-red lips and his face, flushed even through the white paint. Cas with his softening cock between pale thighs that are dusted with fine, dark hairs. And it’s all of it, the details and the bigger picture combined, the taste still on his tongue that has Dean gasping with his forehead against Cas’ thigh as he jerks off quickly, spilling onto the floor in front of him before Castiel even has a chance to reach for him.

He leans against Cas’ thigh for a moment before there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“We should get going” Cas tells him and Dean nods. 

“Just a moment,” he mutters, pressing a lazy kiss against the soft skin. He can almost hear Castiel smile as he leans down and hooks his hands under Dean’s armpits, effortlessly pulling him up.

Then there’s toilet paper being pressed to his face, and it takes a second before realizes that this is Cas wiping away his own come. “I’d use my tongue,” Cas whispers, “But that would take too long.” When Dean glances down, he sees Cas is half-mast again—or maybe he never-

Dean doesn’t spare himself the time to think about that, and instead he quickly cleans himself with toilet paper, not caring if he does an awful job because it’s only a short while before he’ll be naked again anyway. He dumps the paper in the toilet, then flushes it while Cas pulls up his jeans.

When they get back to the bar, Dean looks for Sam to tell him they’re off but his brother is nowhere to be seen. There’s an unread text from Sam on his phone though: “Dnt wry I’m ok c u 2morrow” and smiles. He and Cas will not get interrupted tonight.

And well. If he’s speeding a little on the way back? 

That might as well be contributed to Cas’ hand, slowly palming Dean to hardness again.


End file.
